


The Beginning

by OhBelieveYouMe



Series: Dr. Chilton & His Rose [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Therapy, solace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9101044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: Dr. Chilton's old mentor requests a favor; that he take an hour to discuss the Depression his daughter, Rose, found herself suffering from.
  WARNING: Depression mentions, Conversation re: suicide attempt.





	1. Session

_“It would mean the world to me if you would just speak with her-”_

_**“Sir, you taught me most that I know. Surely there’s very little I’d be able to uncover that you hadn’t managed to already.”** _

_“You’re closer to her age, she may identify with you. Just one session, she’ll take up an hour of your day, that’s all.”_

**_“Do you think she really needs a new therapist after her… incident?”_ **

_“The last one didn’t go so well, and you have a way with words, after all.”_

**_“Most that don’t want to live don’t have much to say.”_ **

_“Which is why I came to you, Frederick; you always have something to say.”_

* * *

He assumed she must resemble her mother. It was hard to find much of his old mentor in the lovely young woman across from him, though Frederick Chilton had never really considered the good Doctor to be all that lovely in any sense. If he stared long enough, he thought he could find a resemblance around her pupils, in her iris- that same deep, daring blue; like the depths of the ocean uninhabited by man, where the fish glowed to attract company or dinner. An unnerving air was about her, it felt as if she was planning far more often than just… being.

Rose. Frederick wouldn’t have guessed that the old Doctor would have settled upon such a pretty name. Fitting, he supposed; she appeared frail upon first glance, malnourished a bit from personal neglect, but there was something about her that made him wary of her thorns. Perhaps they weren’t obvious upon first glance- beauty was a damned demon. He had learned long ago that beauty and evil had some notable tendencies about them: both were enticing and enduring, until they devoured you completely. Frederick had started to wonder if they were one and the same.

She sat across from him; prim and proper in a modest, violet crushed velvet dress with sleeves shamelessly rolled up to her elbows despite her bandages. They may be faced towards each other, but her gaze was obviously looking beyond his head. Curiously, Frederick twisted in his seat, to try and decipher what her attention was so preoccupied with. “What are you reading?” He asked finally, yet was still not gifted with her stare. Upon second thought, he couldn’t guarantee she had really looked him in the eyes since arriving.

“That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? There are plenty of options.” Her eyes narrowed, he could only assume she was studying the spines that faced out at her. “Kind of like asking a blind person what shade of darkness they see, isn’t it?” Well, that’s one way of… _looking_ … at it. Though he couldn’t consider much darkness anywhere she was.

“Ah, but you’re not blind.” He wouldn’t let her take charge of the interrogating, even if he had opened the door- they were there to discuss her, and the reason she had bandages that required daily changing on her wrists- not the disabled. “Just indecisive, apparently.” He splayed fingers out, and made a grandiose motion towards the bookcase. “Any catch your eye, particularly?” Maybe that would get an answer instead of a quip.

His criticism got her attention; Rose scowled at his smug smirk. She nervously shifted in her seat, momentarily resting elbows on her knees. For once, she abandoned her examining of the bookcase, and looked up at Frederick through her lashes. “I’m rather decisive, actually,” quick to argue, if she wasn’t staring at him at this point, he’d have written it down. The way she spoke was defensive, but Frederick had to consider her raising; father a therapist, mother a teacher.  “Just not quite good at the execution of those decisions.“ Her spine straightened, she seemed to be satisfied with her explanation.

The execution. Really, she was making his job too easy. “Funny turn of phrase,” He watched as her fingers curled around the arms of her chair- her nails had been cut short. Not nibbled, the edges would have been jagged; likely a nurse had insisted she keep them minuscule. “Was it purposeful or a coincidence?” Even though she was watching, he scrolled some shorthand into the pad- it made him smirk when he noticed her attention drag to the movements of his pen. She was really concerned about what he had to write, apparently.

Rose shifted uncomfortably, and her hair fell over one shoulder in a luxurious golden wave of curls. As if afraid of her next move, he watched her- carefully, while working to maintain a Poker Face of calm. The rise of her chin warned him that she likely would chose Pride over indulging him with an answer. “Isn’t it your job to decipher intention?”

Touche, touche. Moving along then. “May I call you Rose?” Dr. Chilton leaned forward, and carefully laced his fingers atop the manilla file her father had passed along to him, covering her name in hopes of introducing a lighter conversation. She was too accustomed to therapy, her father likely had been psychoanalyzing her to the point of insanity. “Or do you prefer a more formal reference?”

Her pink lips pursed, he thought of how that may be the rosiest part about her- but she nodded, accepting his prior suggestion. “Rose is fine,” Oh glory, her shoulders drooped, and she almost looked… comfortable. “May I call you Frederick?”

He couldn’t lie, for some odd reason, his name sounded better when spoken by her voice than it ever had before. “I’d prefer a more formal reference.” It was a distraction, he had already faltered from professionalism even if it hadn’t been physically evident. Somewhere in the recesses of his desires, he wanted her to say ‘Frederick’ again, but it would be improper. He couldn’t afford the vulnerability.

Rose twitched, and he noticed how she uncrossed her legs for likely the hundredth time since they had begun their session. Antsy, nervous, fidgety? Maybe that was why she was so unwilling to answer his questions straight.  “Would you feel better standing?” Frederick asked genuinely, but she responded by swiftly hooking her ankles beneath her. Stubborn, like her father. A blessing and a curse, to whoever was attempting to analyze her, at least.

“No,” Rose admitted honestly, and lounged so both of her wrists rest on the left arm instead of distributing her weight between the entirety of the chair. Her head leaned back to rest against the leather, and she lazily left her eyes on the suave doctor. “No, I would not.”

If she wanted to lead, perhaps he should try providing a guided opportunity. “What would make you feel better?” 

Another loaded question, Frederick could sense her frustration when she only blinked in response. “I don’t quite know,” she mumbled finally, just before going quiet. For the first time since sitting with him, she studied her gauzy bandages, and mindlessly ran a fingertip along where her cuts were hidden. “I suppose it would certainly help matters if I did-”

Well, that was a damn good point. “Does putting your life at risk make you feel better?” Back to his notepad; her eyebrows perked at the sound of his pen against paper.

“I’m not suicidal,” her nose crunched condescendingly, not happy with the line of questioning, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Your previous therapist disagrees.” To prove his point, Frederick tapped at a line written in her old file. 

Rose leaned forward, he could smell her perfume as she unblushingly scanned the notes her old therapist must have written. “We did a lot of that- disagreeing.” 

More disapproval of authority, Frederick wrote that down as well. “Do you think we’d be able to come to an agreement?”

She tried to examine the annotations he was making, but he childishly tried to shield his paper with his arm. It drove her wile, he could tell by how her lip twitched. “I believe that depends on how agreeable you can be,” Rose’s taunts were delectable.

He couldn’t help himself- Frederick smiled. “Why don’t we try honesty first?” The notepad was snapped shut, and Rose was surprised at how much better that felt. Less like an interrogation, more like an actual discussion. She didn’t mind those, preferred them actually. “You tell me a truth you hadn’t told your old therapist,” He joined his hands in front of his chest, rocking his point from her and back to himself, “and I’ll decide whether we can come to an agreement on your observations.”

“What makes you think I care whether or not we agree?” Apathetically, she went to studying her nails. Too obvious to get past him, she was looking for a distraction.

That meant- he was getting somewhere. “I don’t think you do,” Frederick wagged his head as if it was really of little concern to him either way. “But I know it would help me assuage your father’s concerns.”

Darling Rose reclined, and for once, she appeared actually relaxed. Like the mermaids lounging amidst tidal pools in old mythological art- he’d lie to say he wouldn’t struggle to keep from following her to a watery death, it’d be worth it for a moment of lying at her side among the sea air and her glow. Her lips trembled weakly, the thought of bothering her father with her emotional demons broke her heart. “All I’ve ever wanted was to feel useful,” Rose mumbled it mostly, and her eyes fell to the beveled edges of the desk instead of Frederick. “Sincerely useful, needed. Purposeful.” He almost felt guilty for toying with her at first when confronted with her sweet sincerity. In fact, she almost proved her own point.

“Does mere existence not provide enough purpose?” He wouldn’t reveal if he agreed or not, not quite yet.

“Not at all-” the look she shot his way led him to believe they were heading towards a disagreement, already. “Everyone exists, it’s not something you work or fight for, it just is.”

Even in his dark mind, that seemed a bit dramatic, despite how it did make some logical sense. “Some would argue life is a gift.”

Rose’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, and Frederick found himself being drawn in. How her face skewed while she considered the sentiment was intriguing, this was probably the most genuine consideration she had given him the whole time she had been here. “I’d argue that it’s not until you make it gift-worthy.” Her tone had even changed- she was conversating. Not hiding behind sass.

However, he couldn’t ignore the main reason they were together in the moment. “And ending it makes it gift worthy?” Frederick shamelessly pointed towards her bandages with his pen.

Rose didn’t follow his pointed prompt. “I wasn’t trying to kill mys-”

“We’re disagreeing there.” He had told her he’d be honest, and now was the time. Allowing her to deny the damage she had done would not be of benefit to either of their causes, whatever hers may be.

She was frustrated, yet her lips trembled as she struggled to argue. He thought he was on the verge of a breakthrough, maybe they’d get to a good stopping point before the end of the hour came. “What makes your life so important?” The question came like a freight train, traveling beautifully from her voice to hit him with enough force that he was nearly certain he must have rocked in his chair.

“The work I do.” It was the only thing he could think of, and he had to give an answer quickly.

Rose cocked her head to the side, and those blue eyes suddenly felt so cold as they stared in his greens. “What else?” Her lip was pulled beneath her teeth, and Frederick again felt himself falter. He was momentarily lost, in her inquiries and in the undeniable desire he had to smell her perfume again. “Is there anything else?”

“We’re not here about me,” Frederick needed to regain control, though he wondered how any man could accomplish such a task. He was having enough trouble trying to hide the blush rising to his cheeks.

She smiled, and it was more stunning than the morning sun rising over the horizon. No warm colors of dawn could compare to how she lit up the room, “Maybe we should be.”

Was she analyzing him now? What was it about her- those eyes that were too easy to get lost in, the arrogant air about her that barely transcended the barrier of confidence? “I believe we’re done here, Rose.”

She wilted, physically and obviously, sinking into the leather chair until he was convinced she wanted nothing more than to disappear. What was it on her face- disappointment? Disattachment? Dissociation? Without consideration of propriety, Frederick left the confines of his desk to stand alongside her leather throne. 

Unable to resist, he reached across to take her chin in his fingers, forcing her eyes up from her fiddling fingers and to his own. “You are a gift to the world, Rose.” Her brows furrowed, and her bewilderment gave him a short surge of electricity- had she never been told this before? Had no fumbling teenagers told her they loved her, were there not twenty-something year olds crooning her with talks of forever? She deserved it; to know how lovely her mind was, and how she was likely the only being he’d met who was as intriguing and gorgeous in her head as she was upon presentation. “You don’t have a right to rid us of your influence; you just need to learn how to lasso your moon, to find your purpose.” Her fingers curled around his wrist, and little tears sprouted from her eyes. “I have full faith you’ll manage just fine, as long as you let yourself.”

Silence followed, and for all of fifteen seconds, nothing existed except for the other. His pessimism and general annoyance with the world had dissolved at the spark of light that flashed in her eyes. Her unwillingness to live had shifted, to a sudden and unnerving desire to be the gift this strange man considered her to be. If someone like him, disconnected and prideful, could sincerely consider her so important- who was she to waste it? “Thank you, Dr. Chilton,” it was a whisper, but it resounded louder than the humming of the air conditioner or the tick of the clock on the wall. “I appreciate your time-”

“It was my pleasure,” He politely assisted her to her feet, holding tight on her elbow as he guided her noiselessly towards the door. Rose sauntered out, a silly smile plastered across her face, and he called to her just before she turned the final corner that would take her from his sight. “I’ll be in contact with your father-” Why would she care? He assumed she didn’t, but he did notice how the reminder regarding the catalyst of their session reminded her to roll her sleeves down. “Have a lovely day, Rose. Make it yours.”

Her fingers fluttered his way, conveying her adieus while dismissing him as well. “You as well, Dr. Chilton.” And like the last star in the night sky before dawn- she was gone, leaving him almost hoping for nightfall and the chance to see her sparkle one more time…

Oh why hadn’t he let her call him ‘Frederick’? 

* * *

**_“I’m afraid, Sir, I won’t be able to see your daughter any further.”_ **

_“That’s unfortunate, she seemed to be uncharacteristically optimistic after your session.”_

**_“I’m afraid I found myself enamored with her.”_ **

_“I see… rather unprofessional, especially for you, Frederick.”_

**_“It would be more unprofessional and unethical for me to continue advising her.”_ **

_“I agree. It’s still quite a shame. She doesn’t have many successes-”_

**_“You’ve raised a lovely Rose, Doctor. Bright, inquisitive, driven- I have no doubts she’ll flourish once she finally blooms.”_ **


	2. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose & Dr. Chilton meet again, and search for Purpose.

It had been _years_ since Frederick Chilton had seen Ms. Rose.  
He knew this because most days, he found different ways of regretting the choice to exclude himself from her treatment. Where was she, his missing flower, and had she ever found the purpose she sought desperately after?

So, when a pretty young woman tumbled haplessly into his chest while carrying a collection of white and pink flowers, he made no efforts to hide his annoyance. Her lips spouted apologies, he debated bringing up how repetition was the tool of the insincere, but Frederick physically flinched when those lovely, familiar eyes shot up at him from her spot crouched at his feet. He knew her, he knew those irises, there was no doubt in his mind-

Her cheeks were red by the time she recognized him. "Doctor Chilton?" Apparently he had embarrassed her, but not enough to push him from her memory. "Oh Doctor Chilton, I am so very sorry- I wasn't watching where I was stumbling," she giggled, a foreign noise compared to her terse tone last time they had spoken. Her fingers wiggled in the air, an effort to dismiss her current mistake, he assumed.

"Rose, isn't it?" Of course he knew it was, but he eagerly lowered himself so they'd be closer to eye level. A hand remained on his cane, for balance, but he tried to at least be helpful by collecting a few loose flowers from the cement. Curiously, he noted her bare wrists, aside from the scars that still marked her from just below her palm to some inches away from the inside of her elbow. No efforts to hide them, or shield herself from his wandering stare.

She nodded in cheery confirmation, and her vibrant smile took him by surprise. Last time he saw her, she scowled most of the time, and had been beautiful in the same way a lioness entrances her prey. This time, though, the grin was genuine- Frederick found himself struggling to keep from mirroring her joy. "Yes, it is, I'm glad you remembered." After going back to standing, she paused, and took note of his new accessory. "Oh Doctor, do you need help up-"

Without being given time to deny her, he allowed her assistance, and rose so he stood in front of her. Was she always so beautiful, or was it the sunlight that brought that glow to her cheeks. "You look lovely, Rose," he laid his free hand on her shoulder, after she retrieved her fallen daffodils from him. "Happiness has never been so appealing; you look as if you've managed to lasso your moon."

Her shoulders bobbed, and she began to twist at the waist as she stood, causing her emerald chiffon skirt to float about around her. "I've found purpose," she confided, in the decibel of a whisper, and he found himself suddenly more curious.

"How did you manage that?" He matched her muted tones, even going as far as to lean forward when she rocked up to her toes. A little plaque was pinned to her shirt, and she very proudly pressed the back of it with her thumb so he’d be able to read the words better. “ _Rose, RN”_. The lovely girl had become a nurse?

“I take care of people who need me,” it was a chirp, a beautiful and delighted revelation tied into her response. “And I bring flowers to the disheartened,” like a child begging for approval, she held up her bundle of lilies and daffodils. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

Before he could even think of his response, the words tumbled off his tongue, “Yes, you are.” Despite his Freudian slip, Frederick smiled at how she beamed back at him. What a precious gift to the world she was when she was happy, how lucky every patient was when they found themselves in her capable hands. It was darling; he debated internally, how someone could find such relief simply by caring for others. Her purpose: to be an angel. How appropriate. “And I’m tickled to know you’ve found the purpose you’d been searching for, Rose.”

At the mention of her name, she shyly shot her gaze to the cement. Never had he seen someone so lovely before, in all of her coquettish glory. “I hope your day is going well, Dr. Chilton, despite my disrupting your course-“

He laughed at the absurdity of her veiled apology; he’d prefer to have her in his path than to be productive. In fact, he’d be pressed to say this wasn’t the best part of his day, or the last many. “It is, but your smile has made it even better.” Just as he had done when she was in his office, Frederick took hold of her chin, and raised it high. “Perhaps sometime soon you could bless me with it again? I’d love nothing more than to hear how wonderful you find your new position as a caregiver.”

Stammering, and nearly stumbling over her own feet in her coy nervousness, Rose removed her face from his grasp and hugged her flowers to her chest. “I’d love that, Doctor. Just give me a ring whenever you find yourself free.” An awkward silence fell over them, she was staring expectantly his way and he was too entranced in her eyes to find his words. Her lips twitched and turned down just slightly, he wasn’t sure why, but she gently pat at the lapels of his suit jacket to convey her adieus. It felt like fire, even though she hadn’t touched his skin. “Goodbye, Doctor.” In the far recesses of her mind, she had to consider that perhaps he was just being polite. Apparently it was time to stop bothering the good doctor.

Just as mysteriously as she had arrived and just as abruptly as the first time- his lovely Rose sauntered away, and disappeared into the midst of the growing crowd. Frederick found himself grinning, for reasons only he knew, and he did this for at least a few blocks without even noticing the additional bounce in his step.

It wasn’t until the doors of the hospital closed behind him, when he was once again trapped in the world of duties and darkness, that the awful mistake he had committed became too terribly obvious. The air dissipated, he thought he couldn’t breathe through the sudden onset of immense disappointment.

In the hypnotic reverence of Rose’s mere presence, he had forgotten to ask for her number. Was this Fate, the damned torturous fool of time; or was it Karma, finally coming back for him?

Either way, he proceeded into his own personal Hell, alone.

* * *

"Dr. Chilton!?" She wasn't on duty. In fact- she had just been on her way out the door after a twelve hour shift on the floor. The gurney had been rushed past her, and typically she wouldn't even be able to pay all that much attention to the chaos after such a draining day.

But they had said his name. Doctor Frederick Chilton.

Rose immediately twisted in her steps, coiling fingers hopelessly around one of the rails on the bed. Without explanation or reasoning, she joined the emergency room whirl, and nearly tripped over her own feet while switching directions. "What happened?" She demanded, loudly, and an EMT who brought her favorite coffee to her station on cold mornings eagerly obliged her curiosity-

"Bullet wound, to the face. He's alive," The young man chanted mechanically, though he wasn't sure why. He knew Rose's shifts and that hers was over, he looked for her whenever he was at the hospital- sought her out, prayed she noticed him. Maybe one day. "Do you know him?" It looked like she was going to cry, he debated ordering her to exclude herself from the race; advise she wait for him so he could comfort her later.

"Yes," was all she gave him, and she delicately traced her fingertips over the patient's still hand. “Yes I do, I’ll take care of him.“ His suspicions were confirmed when she urgently lifted his palm to her lips, and he noticed a fire in her eye that he was certain sparked in his every time she was close enough to nearly touch him. That could only be the act of love, even if she wasn’t aware of it yet.

The poor boy thought his heart broke, but he shoved that hurt deep inside. He’d still bring her coffee; fetch her necessities if she forgot something behind in the ambulance. It was hard to stop caring for such a darling Rose, even if all he would be rewarded with was her gratitude. She didn’t seem to be able to perceive something like love, anyway- at least, not from him. “Come along then,” he insisted gruffly, and guided her with a careful hand on the small of her back so she wouldn’t collide with the wall in her concentration on the patient’s face. “If you’re going to stay with him, Rose, you’ll need to keep up-“

* * *

When the Doctor finally awoke from his medically induced coma- he heard the monotonous beeping of nearby machines. As his consciousness came flooding back to him, he became more aware; there were ivory flowers on a table alongside his bed. A bright red bow, tied taught and lovingly, decorated the vase they lay in. Frederick twitched, tried to squint past the illumination coming in through the gauzy curtains through his one good eye left. Someone was there; he could hear their subtle breathing in the near distance. A twist of his head and he noticed a young woman, lounged uncomfortably across four chairs, hair cascading over the arm of the one furthest left where she rest her head.

He'd have liked to been able to say, in his half-conscious state, that he didn't recognize the angel lying under the window. That would have been a lie: her curls, her pout, and her overwhelming aura of benevolence. It could only be: "Rose?" He called out, though his voice was hoarse, he feared she wouldn't be roused so easily.

Oh, but he was wrong. Instantaneously, the sweet young woman sparked to life, nearly tumbling from her precarious placement over the chairs. Blue eyes sought his, and he tried to smile upon confirmation of her acknowledgment- his face, though. He couldn't place what was so odd; numb, with a throbbing dull pain? "Dr. Chilton," she scrambled to her feet and crossed over to his side, desperately finding his hand and gathering it up into her own. "I was so worried, are you alright? How do you feel?"

Feel? He felt nothing, and saw even less- weakness, overbearing numbness; his body felt heavy, annoying. "What happened?" For a moment, he considered the worst- had he died? Was his soul in Heaven, and he fathomed Rose as the precious angel who had come to escort him to the pearly gates or the pits of Hell? Rose; the patient he couldn't save, the one who got away- or was she trapped in purgatory with him? "Am I alive?" He had to ask, needed to know.

Her giggling broke the spell, and she shook her head slowly side to side while shamelessly reaching forward to run fingers through his hair. It felt improper, but necessary, and he tried to stay under her palm like a cat demanding petting. "Yes, Doctor, you're alive."

"Frederick;" he begged of her, and mustered just enough strength to give the hand she held a firm squeeze.

"Frederick-" she confirmed, and suddenly, life or death didn't really matter anymore. Apparently he was in Heaven, anyway. "Frederick, you've suffered a bullet wound- it missed everything vital, but I believe you've been rendered blind in an eye," he could see her wave a hand in front of his face, from the peripheral view of his good eyes, but could only hear her snap. Her pout came back upon his nod of confirmation, and he felt guilty for making her sad.

He swallowed, and tried his best to recall the previous events. "My face though-" he couldn't feel that side; well, he could, but not appropriately. "I need to see what happened-"

"Shh," Rose insisted, while wagging her head side to side in smooth denial. "No, Frederick, you don't. As long as the contents of your thoughts remained intact, that's all that matters." She gifted him a smile once more, and he thought his heart would stop beating in its sprint of joy. "You're alive and that's more than enough, do you need anything? I can fetch you a drink or some food- are you hungry, Frederick?"

"Do I look like a monster?" It felt silly, worrying about his appearance at a time like this. He had always be overly aware of how others perceived him, though- from his well put together suits to his penchant for being dapper and well groomed. A bullet to the face; it sounded damning to anyone concerned with outside views.

To his delight, she again shook her head side to side, and leaned over him so she could place an innocent, delicate kiss on his forehead. He prayed she'd never leave, that her scent could hover over him just as she did, that he could live and eventually die under the glory of her affection. "You look as handsome as ever, Frederick," She spoke his name to keep him tethered to reality, but he lavished in her voice each and every time. "I'm going to go gather you some new blankets, some water, I can get you food-"

She spoke against his skin, but he coiled fingers tight around her wrist upon the threat of her leaving. "Just stay," Frederick begged forlornly, and she twitched in his grasp. "Please, Rose, just stay right here. Don't leave me alone." His strength faded, causing his arm to fall and bring her hand along for the descent.

His alluring Rose nodded, and leaned herself against his bed. "I will, I'll stay with you, Frederick." She promised, or he took it as one, and he suddenly found himself relaxing. "May I sit on your bed with you," she whispered it, and he used every ounce of energy he had to try and scoot himself to the side. It was feeble, mostly useless, but she unblushingly took to climbing atop the white sheets. Permission enough, apparently.

Once she found her place at his side, something deep inside of her heart told her there was nowhere else she'd ever be. It was destiny, karma- whatever source of organization the universe held; it was righted the moment she was near enough for him to lay his face against the space between her shoulder and sternum. Never before had Rose felt so at home, as if she truly found where she belonged. Her Purpose. "Rest, Frederick," she ordered gently, and skimmed his scalp with her nails to hopefully lull him back to sleep. Knowing he was alive had been step one, keeping him well would need to be two.

"Never leave me, Rose;" He whimpered helplessly, while successfully finding the repetitious and melodic beat of her heart with his ear. "You make even the most frightful moments feel like Nirvana."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it, and nodded slowly to seal her fate and her promise. "I'll never leave, Frederick," finally managing to stretch her legs out, over the blankets but alongside his own, they fit more accurately than any puzzle she had pieced together before in the wards. "Now rest, darling; you need to save your energy."

There was no room for arguments, no need either, so Frederick did indeed choose to rest. Life was too scary right now, too unpredictable and he was still unsure. He'd much prefer to be lost and ignorant to the chaos of outside effects.

Yet, with Rose at his side, none of it appeared insurmountable.

* * *

 

> **\--- _To Present Day:_**

The lilies had wilted. Dr. Chilton curiously fingered a failing petal, until it yellowed and fell to the counter top. Where was his own flower, though?

"Rose?"

He found her lying across a love seat, arms dangling loosely over the edge. Her eyes were locked on a scene outside the window, some birds trotting along a branch while chirping at each other. It wasn't the Rose he adored, the one who brightened his world. No- this was the sweet girl that he had sat in his leather chair all those years ago, only thing missing was her crushed velvet dress. The melancholy, the paleness on her cheeks, the glaze over her eyes; it was all back. Her Depression was peeking through the veil of adoration he had so delicately tried to wrap around her, to keep her safe.

"They're lovely, aren't they?" She called out from her spot basking in the sun.

"Yes," Frederick confirmed, and gently sat behind her, in the space behind her back. His lovely friend didn't move an inch, and he gingerly lay his hand over where her skirt draped over her hips. Reposed like the goddesses who wept at the sight of Odysseus’ struggle back to Penelope. "They are lovely," the palm on her hip shifted, so it could lie against the cushions in front of her stomach. With this move, he was leaned over her, and could finally gaze at her beautiful face- even if she wouldn't gift him her stare, just as she had refused to do the first time he had been blessed enough to meet her. "As are you, darling."

"It's rather useless, isn't it?" She was talking in circles; every compliment would bring about another dreary conclusion. He knew it. "One can be lovely, yet still be unfortunately... useless."

We were debating purpose again? Frederick remained silent, allowing her to complete any conversation she felt necessary to exchange. Though he listened closely, his mind wandered; as did the fingertips of his free hand as he traced over her bare arms. 

"Can one still be lovely if they aren't worth more than their aesthetics?"

What a ridiculous question, particularly to be asking of herself. This was how she handled personal conundrums, trying to outsource the issue and speak of it as if she weren't attempting to connect the realizations to herself. "Being aesthetically pleasing doesn't lessen ones worth, Rose." 

"It doesn't heighten it, though." Well, alright then.

Frederick bit down on the inside of his cheek, and he crunched his nose while trying to figure out an appropriate response. "Why do you feel a need to compare beauty and usefulness?" He knew to watch his tone, be careful of how he spoke to her. If she felt cornered she'd only delve deeper within herself, lock him out, possibly even leave _again_ \- Oh, he couldn't stomach the thought, just remembering how empty his home felt without her made him sick. She had been gone less than a week, yet it felt like it had been an apocalyptic eternity. Hell. Until she returned to him. 

Rose pondered his query, and re-positioned just slightly; leaning backwards so she could use him as support. Upon realizing she didn't mind his closeness, he bent the arm that lay in front of her so he could recline, forcing him into her view. "You call me lovely all the time," she mused blankly, and blessed him with her eyes locking on his. "You rarely tell me what else I'm good for."

His upper lip curled, he hadn't thought about it. In fact, he very seldom considered what he said to her when she was in her good moods- she was so strong, so often. When he was at his weakest and his worst, she nursed him to health. When apathy and darkness overcame him, she drug him kicking and screaming back to the light. When he felt volatile and uncontrollable, she soothed his nerves. "There are so many reasons you're so wonderful," he offered while gently pressing his lips against her shoulder. "It's hard to name them all."

"Then name any," she suggested, and he frowned upon noticing the dazed look in her eyes. Was she even there, with him, or was she lost in the labyrinth of Depression once more?

Fine. If Rose required his confirmation to bloom once more, to be her chirping canary in the coal mine: promising her she could safely trek through this darkness- he'd gladly provide. "You know exactly how I like my coffee, down to the amount of grounded beans to prepare and how much sugar I desire-" another kiss to her shoulder, then to her bicep. His muse remained unphased.

"You fill my home with flowers so even in winter, I'm reminded of the blossoming buds that come with Spring," Slowly, her eyes met his, genuinely. It just dawned on her that she hadn’t replaced them this last week- had she forgotten? "Your presence is enough to take my breath away, and your words ring in my ears until you again gift me with your voice." A tear fell down her cheek, though he couldn’t fathom how she’d find any of this displeasing, hopefully it was just her ability to feel coming back. Slowly, but surely. “You gave me reason to live when I thought I was nearly ready for the morgue. Cared for me, nursed me back to health.” A small laugh came from deep in his chest, his smile tapped a crack into the hard shell she had been hiding within- “I still remember how life only felt manageable once more when you agreed to come home with me from the hospital...”

Rose was considering, he could tell, and so he took her moment of self-awareness to the brink. Delicately, he pressed his palm into her shoulder, so she'd be forced to lie supine beneath him instead of facing out towards the yard. He needed her attention on him. His thumb ran along her jaw, and she allowed him to caress her, just gently enough so his prints buried solace in her skin.

"Yet most of all, your existence proves that there is light in this bleak world. Despite all the demons that litter and soil our reality," He manipulated her chin, to force her gaze to fall on his features, to force the sincerity of his words to ring boldly; "there are angels struggling to find their spot among the destruction." He bowed over her, so his face would be mere inches away from her own. Those pinked lips, the bottom trembling, and her lovely eyes beginning to glisten with her tears- Oh, if he could only purge this world and her mind just so she'd never have to feel so dreary.

"You're my angel, my loveliest flower;" Finally, Frederick pressed his lips against her cheek, and she sighed endearingly at the precious affection. It was music to his ears. "I love you, Rose. I have since the moment I saw you, and I will until I wilt away-" his voice caught in his throat, and her hand immediately flew to the back of his head, so she could force him to stay near; "for as long as there is life in my soul, my precious Rose, it will be lived only for you." He kissed her- once, twice, thrice. "Any and every ounce of love I possess is for you, because of you."

"Oh, Frederick," she whimpered, and he gathered her into his arms when she straightened her spine. Lavishly, she draped herself over him, melting against his chest and shamelessly burying her face into his throat. These moments were rare, when he was expected to be the strength and still show his love- but yet, he never quite minded. Frederick may be a silent, suspicious man; the raucous thoughts came with the years he spent helping others battle their own evil.

Oh, but with his Rose- there was no evil. Only love, the overwhelming and ever willing love that only came from a heart as gold as hers. Adoration he neither deserved nor earned, yet burned more brightly than the morning sun chasing away the dusk. She used to be the final star, yet now she was his sun. Necessary, completely necessary.

"Darling, why don't we go elsewhere, I can take you somewhere much nicer than here-" His voice was desperate, a hopeful tether to keep her in his arms instead of floating away to damned isolation. “Somewhere the sun rarely sets, somewhere bright and warm.”

“I don’t need to be anywhere other than here,” she shook her head, and clutched tightly to his shirt. Her perfume wafted and graced his senses. “Just never leave, Frederick;” the idea was ludicrous, he’d rather die than go anywhere else, yet he promised her anyway- via a nod and his hands smoothing soft circles over her spine.

Silly, he thought, how she so doubted her purpose; even after all this time.  
Without her, he’d be nothing, after all; Just as she needed him.

Perhaps their true purpose had been simple all along: **Each Other**.


End file.
